New and Stupid 

I dated a gentleman to whom I was introduced, by mutual acquaintance (many years ago). He was professional. He was a suite during the office hours, and under went some changes during the evenings when we would (as my madear would say) sit company. When we were one on one he was fine during day time lunches when we were both on the run to return back to work... It was in the public eye that we had a problem. He had a lovely car a sane mode of travel. Nothing outrageous, just a nice cleans comfortable, well maintained older car, a successful person would own.

He also had what he called his toy. In time he would reveal this toy to me this care was beyond the realm of all rational reasoning. It sat very low to the ground and the door opened in an upswing direction. Inside there were two seats. Between the seats was most probably the largest collection of Motown music I had ever seen. It was on some kind of rolodex thing that shinned at the touch of a button. Inside there were neon lights beneath the seat and dash. As for the back seats there were none, they were speakers. Very loud speakers.    He would drive up to the house with the sound system on super blast and rattle the windows of my apartment. I thought where is the man I had been talking to for the last two months.

 He became someone, I had never seen before, nor did I completely understand. He changed, he spoke Ebonics. What happened to the person I enjoyed communication with in such appropriate verbaqe. This man was more black than most black people I knew and I worked as a coordinator of a homeless shelter.  He word a sweat suit, and dress shoes which were vivid and exactly color coordinated. This reminded me of when black people leave the deep south and came to the big city becoming fashionably ghetto fabulous.

We were on our way to the movies; he chose the movie (Rosewood). He was generous and accommodating, still being the gentleman helping me with my wrap, opening doors and so forth. Why would he choose such a controversial movie? One with racial violence and clear prejudice on both sides of the cinematic drama. One sure to evoke a wealth of strong emotion from the predominately black audience in attendance. We watched the movie and he analyzed it scene by scene. He held my hand and prophetically apologized for every misdeed perpetrated on the screen upon black people. The he offered the final apology, for what his people had done to my people. While based upon a true story, these were not my people. Most certainly these were not his people either. They were people with a different experience in a time when it was acceptable, and expected that these roles were portrayed. I saw it as an educational experience. He saw it as an opportunity to express his passion for any person of color, as if equine to be accepted as one in the black experience.  I was surprised he did not injure himself, as he kept looking around to see who was looking at us.  He explained that he was trying to put his best foot forward. Nothing I did made the evening a walk in the park. For all intent and purposes this was my man and I his woman. I told him, to just be himself and relax, not to try so hard.

Following the movie we went to have a bite to eat. I noted he was horrible to the waitress. Demanding in a very authoritative manner, requesting the placed order to be repeated back to him. then excusing her as if he owned her. He was a real jerk. When I asked if he knew her, a black woman waiting tables for $2.01 per hour he said no and asked why? I told him it was because it seemed that he had some score to settle with her. He told me he did not and he just wanted to make it clear he would not tolerate sloppy table service. I asked him to tone the attitude down a bit and he did comply. He pulled out his diners club, which was returned rejected. He supplied the waitress with another credit card making sure I saw there were several to choose from by shuffling them. I left the tip as he paid for the meal and no tip was included in the check for her endurance of such rude behavior. Suddenly he was far less attractive to me.

I dated him a couple of times after that. Much discussion was had pertaining to my concerns. I liked him, even found him at one point attractive, but less so now. What ever it was that attracted me to him was no longer a selling point. He was attractive and he did turn heads of women, so much so in the beginning of our relationship, I found myself speaking to women who flirted with him to stake my claim. He was just as possessive; he would hold my hand or put his arm around me when a man was near as to say” she is mine”. I remember thinking to myself, how darn shallow does he think I am? He had coffee mugs in his home with hundred dollar bills on them he called art. His bath towels were silk screened in US currency designs. He had dollar bill wall paper in the path room. I am sure the money he had in the cabinet, medicine cabinet and just laying about on the dresser was designed to impress me. It was disturbing, very disturbing. It was almost as if I was being tested. He would ask if I wanted or needed any thing, the answer was always no. I had no wants or needs. The only need I had was for the man I met at the inland seafood festival would somehow find his way back to the real world. I thought this was a phase and that it would pass, as we began to settle in and become comfortable with one another. Things did improve for a time, but he was still trying too hard. What was this insecurity all about? What evil lived in his soul from which he could not break free? He was making progress and I began to warm toward him once again.

  I decided I was ready to take the relationship to the next level. We were to enter the 6^th month of dating and I felt the time was right to accommodate my / his needs. It was then we discussed his so called deformity and it became an issue. He was compensating for his penis. I thought to just relax; take it slow, just let it all happen and everything will be ok.  I did and it was a successful and pleasurable time. Given his being nervous he was gentle during this time. I had no complaints about his preparing my body for this joining we would soon share; he took a lot of time getting me ready. Which made the first time together less frightening, and with a little patience the mission was accomplished. It was afterward that it became clear that inflicting pain was his thing. I could have used a little TLC in that area given our previous activity, took me to extreme limits, to put it mildly. I was swollen, red and raw but tingling with delight. He caressed my body and my tender moist parts and climbed to the foot of the bed for some serious lip service. This man had lost his mind. All the safety and comfort with him had been suddenly ripped away. I felt like I was in a jaws movie. The very last straw of my tolerance for his bazaar behavior and shortcomings. I could deal with his insecurity, his wanting to be culturally blended; even his boyish pranks but nit this. There should have been only one notice given to him, that I was experiencing discomfort, great discomfort, finally extreme discomfort, all went unheeded...   It felt violent, abusive and nonconsensual dominating. He bit me, chewed and mauled my precious little pretty and seemed to become more excited with my scream and cry of pain and discomfort. I was in some kind of wrestling hold or something, balancing practically on my neck. I do believe I was a submissive but more passive to a point. He brought me to this point in a most sobering way, very quickly. I’ll take responsibility for my actions and certainly, hold my partner responsible for his. I do no know who he had been discussing this with, or what he had been reading. I am not a psychiatrist, therapist or willing to subject myself to a rerun of cunnalingus with KOJO. I just knew for sure skin had been broken, or blood was drawn. I was incorrect on both accounts. But was I ever in torment during this so called offering...

He pleaded my forgiveness. I dressed and demanded he take me home, he refused, saying we needed to talk and he was sorry. The key had been removed from the door. I demanded he open the door and allow me to leave. I was not in tears and sobbing. He kept stepping in front of me to block the window. I kept trying to make my way to it to cal out. I picked up his brass lamp and threw it through the window. He crabbed me and held me tightly saying over and over, I am sorry! We sat on the floor, he still holding me as the struggle slowed and finaly, stopped. No one called the police to report a disturbance or for help, not one porch light of a neighbors turned on. He did after pleading his case take me home. When he pulled dup I jumped and made a bee line for the door. He called out to me, I just kept on running. His final l words, I’ll call you later. He did call later and I did not answer. I turned off the ringer of the phone and by morning, he left several messages throughout the night.   He has never used the (love word before); well he was using it now and with passion. He left flowers at my door. Later he called and I told him I was busy and he offered to purchase a new computer for my poetry (because he loved my writing) whatever! What he loved was that I was accommodating, and was able to take that huge phallic member. He asked if I wanted to so shopping, which I did but not in his company. Even his offer to treat me to my hearts desires could not sway methane did not remain as we were, he could do nothing to regain my favor, not buy me back, not with gifts. Not with promises of anything he has to offer, would have me back in his clutches. Something was wrong with him; he had some issues beyond his sexual insecurity. After about a month of not answering his calls, returning gifts and finally a restraining order, he stopped pursuing me. He was told to remain 500 feet away from my work my home and any place I frequented. He was also ordered to cease all communications in any and all forms.

During this time, my girlfriends with whom I had confided felt I should have taken advantage of the situation.  One even said if you don’t want him, give him to me. Of course they did not have the full details of all the events which had transpired. Sometimes you don’t tell even your closest friends. Looking back, I wish he had been open and honest with me, instead of just taking me to this place where he felt very comfortable. He thought it was understood what was happening. Maybe I shared with him my desires and feelings, and he felt to fulfill me. I only know he scared me, he hurt me, and I was not able to wrap my head around everything, which happened so quickly. As I look back on this situation some 20 years later. I wonder if he ever found that one woman who would accept him, and his way of having fun. He was playing a role and it was not shared.

One cannot simply try to slide on into servitude without discussion. His desire however challenging should have been made clear. If he wanted to play the role of a black pimp, I should have been informed. I may not have played, but at least I would have known he was playing. Instead I thought him to be crazy or something. Back in that time, I had no idea what this would have been all about. In fact I thought BDSM to have been some kind of degenerate sub culture. We had no open discussion of his experimentation into this world. I had no understanding. I doubt if he even understood himself. I imagine today he is an excellent Master, and no doubt possesses and equally excellent slave or harem. I always knew I was different, always. My father was HOH/DD kind of man and he raised us girls alone after my mother passed away when I was young. It was just the way it was at our home growing up. We had nothing to compare it to, and felt everyone lived this way.  I am just now starting to appreciate what was once offered and so readily rejected. As  He/chosen will escort me to places and experiences beyond my dreams. He will allow me to be me, and I am  unique.

I am living proof of the saying “youth is wasted on the young and foolish” to be a true fact. If I only knew then what I know about me now, things would have been different.